


Command and Follow

by HGIndustrialis



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood Elves, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Master/Servant, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5716759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HGIndustrialis/pseuds/HGIndustrialis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Frostwall Garrisson Commander Nysroge Umbra, a blood elf Death Knight, summons the Kirin Tor Magister Krelas to his tent, he does not receive the orders he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Command and Follow

Command and Follow  
by H.G. Industrialis

Chill winds kicked up already fallen snow into a white fog around the Frostwall Garrison, driving the occupants into their tents and to the inn to outlast the brunt of the nighttime mountain winter season. Magister Krelas took a special pride in being able to ward off the cold through the use of magic, and managed to insulate himself inside his lofty purple tent, where he nosed through a volume of magical theory by firelight at a small, round table.

A frigid current moved in and startled him out of his work. An orc huntress peeked into his tent and said, “The Commander needs you.”

Krelas nodded.

The orc disappeared from the tent and added as she walked off, “He's in the command tent.”

So Krelas carefully set a crimson ribbon to keep his place in the book and collected his cloak to venture across the garrison. The Commander's tent stood at the top of the hill, a few paces away from the town hall. Even Bron Skyhorn took shelter from the night, nestled in fur and skins under a leather awning with the rylocks. Skyhorn watched him as he passed and nodded, scraping his horn against the wooden posts.

Krelas slipped inside the command tent, where Commander Nysroge Umbra stood with two undead and one blood elf agents.

“Arrived,” Nysroge's phantasmal, undying voice rang. His glowing blue eyes met Krelas'. The three women followed the Commander's gaze to Krelas at the front of the tent. “There is a matter of concern in Nagrand. Simple. Destroy the Sabermaw. Strike at their leader.”

Krelas quietly came to stand beside the other blood elf. Nysroge straightened. “Your magic will eliminate the chance of retaliation, should it fall short of annihilation. Ulna will go and keep you protected. Return quickly.”

“Of course, Commander,” the undead warlock to his left said in her dry voice. The other undead, the priest he presumed was Ulna, wheezed in something he thought might be a laugh.

The blood elf woman gave Krelas one cold, sideways glance. She crossed her arms and asked, “Will that be all?”

Nysroge hissed, “Yes.”

They started to leave and so did Krelas, but the Commander's voice echoed, “Magister Krelas. Stay.” The others left with a sideways glance.

Nysroge stood tall, his lomg silver-white hair coiled like strands of silk about his fearsome armour. A blood elf touched by a cold undeath, but a capable and effective leader. Krelas suddenly grew uneasy. The Commander was as beautiful as he was terrifying, a powerful force that the mage found almost intoxicating.

Commander Nysroge said, “Privacy.” Guards posted inside the tent gave each other a quizzical glance and quietly left. He watched them and waited for them to exit.

“Was... There something you wanted of me, Commander?” Krelas asked.

Their eyes met again and Nysroge inclined his head. “Yes,” the commander said. He brushed his fingers under Krelas' cloak and slipped it off, exposing the mage's shoulders. His fingers traced them gently.

Krelas inhaled.

Nysroge snatched him by the jaw and pulled him to soft lips. Nysroge's mouth parted and closed, inviting Krelas to do the same, and when he did, the Commander slipped his tongue into the other elf's mouth. They slid over and between each other softly, easing into something sensual and passionate.

Nysroge brought cradled the back of Krelas' head as he roamed deeper into the mage's mouth, then pulled away. The kiss was neat. Nysroge brushed Krelas' cheek.

“Commander, I--”

Nysroge snapped a sharp and dangerous look. Krelas stood paralyzed.

“Kneel,” the Commander said.

“What?”

Anger flared in Nysroge's cold eyes. With more force, he commanded, “ _Kneel._ ”

Krelas hesitated.

Nysroge ran his hands through Krelas' hair and planted a kiss on Krelas' cheek. He whispered, more softly, “Kneel.”

The mage gave in and lowered himself to his knees, feeling the Commander's hand stroke his hair even as he changed position. Nysroge's other hand caressed and kneaded himself. Krelas could see the Commander's penis stiffen and grow under the confines of his tight pants. Nysroge pulled out his elegant member and stroked it full and erect.

It came to Krelas' mouth and pressed against his supple lips. Krelas closed his eyes. The commander smelled invigorating. He turned his head away. An unfortunate arousal grabbed him and uncomfortably hardened his own, which he reached down and squeezed painfully to stop.

Nysroge's tip touched Krelas' lips again. The commander gripped him by the hair and guided his head into position. He opened up and Nysroge eased in without reservation.

He tasted sweet.

Commander Nysroge started with a slow rhythm, gliding across Krelas' inquisitive tongue. His strokes deepened. His grip on the mage's head tightened. Krelas' own erection begged for attention, but Nysroge started thrusting into his face with deliberate power and control.

“Touch yourself,” Nysroge commanded.

Krelas pulled up the hem of his robes and stroked his dick, gasping around the one in his mouth. He brought himself up to the pace that the Commander used on him.

Nysroge exhaled audibly, listening to the hustle of the mage pleasure himself, and pumped into the him harder and faster over and over in pursuit of his mounting passion. Krelas' cough and gag and occasional splutter went unheeded. Nysroge breaths turned into moans. He stepped forward into Krelas and pounded the mage's skull relentlessly until his body tensed and his orgasm shot out of him and hit the back of the mage's throat.

Krelas couldn't pull away. The Commander held him in place while another wave and its smaller follow-up pulsed into him. “Swallow,” Nysroge commanded. Krelas found it difficult, but the Commander didn't withdraw until the mage's throat constricted to suck down all of the semen and saliva.

Nysroge panted. He pulled out quickly and left Krelas with the abandoned desire to feel it soften in his mouth. The Commander peeked down at the mage's rumbled clothes and yet unfinished, half-exposed erection. Nysroge sighed. He turned away and collapsed in a chair by the fire.

Through his breaths, Nysroge said, “Come.”

Krelas awkwardly gripped himself and started to stroke. Nysroge glared at him sharply. “Come _here_ ,” his echoed voice seethed. So the mage picked his weak body off the floor with some difficulty and came to the Commander's side. Nysroge's penis was still out of his pants, softening. “Sit.”

Magister Krelas looked for another chair, keenly aware of the way his penis tented his clothes.

Nysroge growled and pulled the mage to his knee, sitting him sideways and spreading his legs marginally wider. He bit off his glove. “Clasp your hands behind your back. Do not move them. You can lean back into my arm.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Nysroge supported the mage's back and used his other to reach under Krelas' Kirin Tor robes. The mage was hard as stone. He dipped Krelas back, letting gravity pull the mage's head back, and deftly stroked out the impending orgasm with brutal efficiency. The mage's orgasm was loud. Krelas ejaculated more than he expected, soiling the inside robes and spilling over his entire hand.

Nysroge noted his irritation and displeasure, but he brought his hand out from under Krelas' robes and ate the mess away, then tucked himself back in.

Krelas was speechless.

The Commander pushed the mage back on his feet and stood beside him. A sort of affectionate warmth coloured Nysroge's features. “It is late. Clean up and get some rest. Report to me when you are ready.”

Nysroge put Krelas' cloak back around him and nodded a dismissal.


End file.
